


I Cannot Love You

by notimmortal



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon essentially ignored, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Magical Realism, Some elements from episodes, mentioned drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimmortal/pseuds/notimmortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was cursed during university, unable to say "I love you" ever again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Cannot Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tumblr user Melisslo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tumblr+user+Melisslo).



> I saw this awesome prompt from melisslo on Tumblr. She graciously allowed me to take it and do something with it. I hope I did your prompt justice.
> 
> Johnlock Prompt: I’ve never written a prompt before but I thought this up after reading a Howl’s Moving Castle AU and I think it’s pretty good and someone needs to do it. Anyway, the idea is: 
> 
> Sherlock breaks the heart of a powerful witch (I’m thinking Irene) and as a punishment, the witch gives him a curse that prevents him from telling the person he falls in love with that he loves them. If he ever attempts to utter the words “I love you” or anything that indicates his true feelings the only thing he will actually say is “I cannot love you.” The only way to break the curse is if the person he loves commits themselves to him even though they believe Sherlock does not love them back. And obviously, Sherlock can’t tell anyone about the curse either.
> 
> So Basically, Sherlock is sad and lonely because whenever he meets someone falls in love and they tell him they love him they eventually leave thinking Sherlock doesn’t love them back. Until he meets John who helps him break the curse.

**Before**

 

It starts with Sherlock.

 

It was finally the last day of university and he couldn’t wait to be free of it. No more Jim Moriarty hovering near and trying to make him suffer. No more Irene Adler sneaking around him, trying to entice his with her intellect. All of it would be over.

 

“Sheeerrrr loooccckkk!” A hauntingly familiar voice sing-songed from behind him. Sherlock attempted to steel himself as he turned to face his greatest adversary: Jim Moriarty.

 

Jim Moriarty was not a man, no. He was not simply just a man. He was a man with money, a man with influence. A man who had access to Magic and was willing to do whatever he pleased with it.

 

Magic in England at this point was very rare. Before, Magic had roamed free in the land, allowing whoever to use it at their whims. The government didn’t like that, so they decided to confiscate the Magic and distribute it themselves. Only a select few, those with influence or power, had access to the supply. The Moriarty family managed to buy their way into the power, using it however they saw fit.

 

“Moriarty,” Sherlock said coolly, making himself detached from the situation at hand. It was the only way he knew to handle the man.

 

“Aw Sherlock. You don’t sound pleased to see me. How ‘bout a smile?” the man said, flicking his fingers at Sherlock. Sherlock felt his facial muscles forced into a grin, unable to combat the Magic the man seemed to possess. “There. That’s much better. I have a proposition for you, Sherlock Holmes. A very, very nice proposition.”

 

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” Sherlock said through clenched teeth, unable to take control over his mouth again.

 

“Well that’s not nice, Sherlock. You didn’t even hear me out!” Jim said, waving his hand at Sherlock again, releasing his mouth from the spell. “All I was going to say is that you should have dinner with Irene and I tonight. It’ll be fun. One last time before we go our separate ways.”

 

Sherlock pondered this for a moment. He looked at Moriarty, trying to find any traces of deceit in his face. Every deduction he made was coming up blank, nothing seemed off about the offer besides the offer itself. Against his better judgement, Sherlock found himself nodding. “Alright, fine. I will join you and Irene for dinner.”

 

Moriarty smiled, “Excellent. We’ll get you from your dorm before we go, okay?” Sherlock nodded, albeit reluctantly. “See you tonight, Sherlock.”

 

***

 

Sherlock spent the rest of his afternoon pacing his room nervously. He had already packed his belongings, Mycroft coming to retrieve them and bring them back home for him. Sherlock wasn’t sure what to expect out of having dinner with Irene and Moriarty. The two of them and been trying to get under his skin since they had started university. Why would they offer to go out with him like normal people now?

 

Sherlock knew that he shouldn’t have said yes, but he wanted to experience the illusion of friendship at least once before he started on his graduate degree at a different, more vetted school, later in the year. He wanted to be able to pretend like he had a normal experience in school. He didn’t want to regret not doing anything.

 

The pacing continued until it was seven o’clock, stopped only by the knock at the door. Sherlock opened it and offered for Irene and Moriarty to enter, but they declined, telling Sherlock they had a reservation to keep. Nodding, Sherlock followed them out of the dorm room. There was no turning back.

 

The three had a private booth at the restaurant. Whether it was courtesy of Moriarty or Irene, Sherlock didn’t know. They chatted while eating their food, the atmosphere surprisingly relaxed. It wasn’t until midway through the meal that Sherlock realized Moriarty and Irene had been staring at him. Feeling his face flush, he asked, “Is everything alright?”

 

“Everything is fine, darling,” Irene said slowly, a slight roll to her R. “In fact, things are about to get much more interesting.”

 

Sherlock watched as Irene reached into her purse and pulled out a single black card. Confused, he turned to Moriarty for clarification only to see the other man pull a red card out of his suit pocket. Sensing danger, Sherlock tried to stand but he couldn’t move. The two placed the cards on top of each other, a blinding red light in the shape of a cracked heart emitting from the cards. Fear continued to mount within in him as Sherlock watched, still unable to move. Irene and Moriarty smiled, both devilish smiles, then whispered some unintelligible words before blowing the heart directly into Sherlock. Sherlock felt the force of the heart hit his chest, making him double over. It felt as is his heart were becoming encased in ice, a cold pit beneath his lungs. While he was laying over the table, Irene slid the card into his pocket before slipping out with Moriarty.

 

The second they were gone, Sherlock found that he was once again able to move. The cold feeling that had settled in his chest still remained, causing fear to flood his system once again. He needed help.

 

***

 

Mycroft Holmes occupied a “minor” position in the British Government. Thanks to this, the man had access to the Magic the government held. Sherlock knew that he would have to go to his brother, no matter how badly he wanted to avoid doing so. His brother’s secretary let him in, guiding him to his brother’s study.

 

“Sherlock,” the elder Holmes said, voice laced with surprise. “What has happened?”

 

“I-“ Sherlock was trying to explain what had happened, but his voice seemed lost in his throat. He tried again. “I-“ Nothing would come out, as hard as he tried. It was like trying to move while he was in the restaurant, he simply couldn’t. “I can’t.”

 

“Can’t what, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked. That’s when he felt it. The large amount of Magic built up in his brother, the cold seeping from around his figure. That’s when it hit him. “You’ve been cursed.”

 

“I’ve been what?” Sherlock asked, not wanting to believe what his brother had said. “There’s no way.”

 

Mycroft ignored his brother’s disbelief. “Check all of your pockets, try to find a card or a small bag, something that could contain the magic.”

 

“I’m not going to find any–“ Sherlock stopped, finding a two-toned card in his pocket. Black and red, just like the cards Moriarty and Irene had. He held it out to Mycroft, words lost to him once again.

 

Mycroft studied the card. “This is powerful magic indeed. Two people, strong male and strong female. Black and red, the colours of the Moriartys and the Adlers. What did you do, Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock racked his brain, trying to find something he did that would have caused this. “I had rejected some of their advances throughout the year. I was determined not to let them get under my skin, trying to avoid conflict. Then they asked me to dinner… I was so compelled to say yes, even though there were suspicions in my head,” Sherlock looked down, utterly defeated. “Ultimately, I brought this upon myself.”

 

“Sherlock…”

 

“Is there any way to break it?”

 

Mycroft studied the curse for a few more moments. It was impossible to even tell what it had done. “It would take time. I’m afraid I can’t even tell you the nature of the curse. A team can be assembled in order to try to find out what it is and how to break it, but I’m afraid until that can be done you will have to live with it.”

 

Sherlock nodded, knowing that there was nothing else he could do. He would be able to live with this, whatever it was. He was sure of it.

 

**After (Part 1)**

 

It continues with Sherlock.

 

He starts his graduate program, moving into central London to do so. It’s easy enough, no one really gives him a hard time. In fact, no one really pays him any mind at all.

 

Except for Sebastian Wilkes.

 

Sebastian was going into finance, working to become a stock trader. However, he was required to take a science, one that he was simply failing. That’s how he came to know one Sherlock Holmes.

 

“Sherlock, right?” the future banker asked one day after class. Sherlock nodded, apprehensive of what was to come. “I’m Sebastian.”

 

“I know who you are. Sebastian Wilkes, future stock trader or banker. String of poor quality lovers, failing your required science, decided to come to me for help. Why? Oh. I see, your lovers were all helpers in your classes first, when they failed to help you, you failed to please them. Mutual destruction ensured for both of you. Even though you try to do this less now, you always chose a tutor you find to be at least semi-attractive. This way if the opportunity arises, you can make your move,” Sebastian’s eyes grew wide with each deduction, his cheeks flushed with slight shame. “Oh don’t look so guilt ridden, it’s fine. I will tutor you. I make no promises about the rest of your plan, but I would be willing to help so you don’t fail. I believe you could make a good stock trader, if such a thing exists.”

 

Sebastian continued to stare at Sherlock. “How do you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“That little parlor trick, or whatever it was. Where you told me everything about me.”

 

Sherlock tried not to let himself look too offended. “It’s not a parlor trick. It’s a simple matter of observation.”

 

“Right,” Sebastian said, not believing it. “Well, thank you. Do you think we could start tomorrow night?” Sherlock nodded. “Great, here’s my number and the address. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock continued to stand in that spot for a few minutes after the other man had left. It was a rather peculiar encounter, to say the least. But perhaps it would lead to good. Sherlock decided to take it in stride, preparing a list of things to go over with Sebastian the next day.

 

***

 

It only took a few sessions of tutoring for Sherlock to realize that Sebastian was smarter than he seemed. Once he started explaining, the other man seemed to grasp onto what he was saying. “You do this much better than the professor does.”

 

“Do I?” Sherlock said, tone and face as blank as he could make it.

 

“Yeah. I didn’t understand anything the professor said, but this is going well.”

 

Sherlock silently glowed under the praise. It wasn’t often that he received any type of praise like that at all.

 

After about three months of tutoring, Sebastian decided to ask Sherlock out. “It could be nice. You, me, dinner. As a thank you for getting my grade up the way you have.”

 

Sherlock’s brain went offline momentarily, trying to comprehend what had happened. “So we’re getting dinner.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“As friends?”

 

“Well, I was hoping it could be more like a date but it that makes you uncomfortable–“

 

“No!” Sherlock shouted, cutting Sebastian off. “I mean. I would be open to this being a… Date.”

 

Sebastian smiled. “Great. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around six, alight?” Sherlock nodded, not trusting his voice. “See you then, Sherlock.”

 

After Sebastian had left, Sherlock felt a twinge in his heart. Ever since the curse had be placed on him, all he had felt was an icy chill around his heart. This was the first bit of warmth he had felt there in a long time.

 

***

 

Sherlock and Sebastian’s first date was a success. As were the second and the third and the fourth. It wasn’t long until Sebastian was calling Sherlock his boyfriend. Sherlock still helped Sebastian with his science class, Sebastian thriving in the class. Sometimes Sherlock felt like he still had reasons to be wary of Sebastian’s intentions, even if it seemed that he was genuine.

 

Unfortunately, things couldn’t stay good for very long.

 

“I…” Sherlock started one evening, words caught in his throat. That feeling he had on the night with Moriarty and Irene as well as in Mycroft’s office, had returned.

 

“What’s wrong, Sherlock?” Sebastian asked, hand light on his shoulder.

 

“I… I cannot love you,” Sherlock whispered, heart breaking, aching. He felt as if he could never feel lower. Then Sebastian laughed.

 

“Oh, Sherlock. It was never about love anyway. I can’t love you either, no one can. Did you think this was anything more than some casual flirtations to get work done? Did you really think we would continue after I passed this semester? You’re a freak, Sherlock. But a useful freak.”

 

Sherlock never saw Sebastian again after that night, the man’s words cutting him to his core. _I will never do this again. I’m not making that mistake again._

 

**After (Part 2)**

After his encounter with Sebastian, Sherlock went back to see Mycroft. “I’ve discovered the nature of the curse,” Sherlock said softly as he closed the door.

 

Mycroft looked up, surprised. He had had his top Magical researchers on the task for months now, not one cracking the surface. “And what would that be?”

 

“I cannot say that–“ The words still stuck in Sherlock’s throat. He couldn’t force them out. He gestured to Mycroft’s papers, silently asking permission to write. When Mycroft nodded, Sherlock made the attempt to write the words. He found that his hand wouldn’t allow him to do that either. Instead, Sherlock just pointed to his heart. The ice feeling was still there, but he could tell Mycroft got the message.

 

“You cannot say you love someone,” Mycroft said, not questioning. He knew that it was true. “Do you have any idea of how it could be broken?”

 

“I do not,” Sherlock said, voice sounding defeated. “Now that you know what it is, do you think that it will be easier to find a cure?”

 

Mycroft pondered this for a moment. “Think it could help. I’ll inform my team of this. For right now, just try to take care of yourself.”

 

***

Sherlock was determined to remain unattached to people from this point on. He didn’t want to experience the pain he had felt when he was with Sebastian ever again. Unfortunately for him, the universe didn’t want to make things this easy for him.

 

Sherlock was walking home one day, lost in thought about a peculiar case he had read about in the paper. He was shocked out of his thought by a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down to see a dog, gnawing on his ankle.

 

“I am so sorry!” A voice shouted from behind him. “He never runs off like this, I don’t know what has gotten into him!”

 

Sherlock turned to see a man running to catch up to him, a tattered leash in his hand. The man knelt down to pry the dog off of Sherlock’s leg. The pain was still in his leg, and there was a bit of blood there, but Sherlock was so entranced by the man that he couldn’t force himself to focus on it.

 

The man in front of him was tall, almost as tall as Sherlock himself. His tanned skin and dark hair suggested Middle Eastern roots, but his voice said raised in England. Overall, the man was gorgeous.

 

“Victor Trevor,” the man said, extending his hand for Sherlock to shake. “And this is Marcus. He’s usually so much more well behaved, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

 

“It’s no trouble, really,” Sherlock said, still ignoring the pain in his leg. “Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“Can I walk you home, Mr. Holmes?” Victor asked, gesturing to his leg. “I don’t think it would be good to walk on that alone.”

 

“I... Alright. Thank you,” Sherlock said, voice quiet.

 

Victor and Sherlock walked together, Victor holding his dog it his arms so as to not allow him to bit Sherlock again. They chatted quietly, Victor telling Sherlock about his classes at school and Sherlock telling Victor of his experiments at home.

 

When they reached Sherlock’s home, he invited Victor inside. “I have to decline for today, I need to get Marcus home. But perhaps I could take you to lunch tomorrow?”

 

Sherlock smiled. “I’d really enjoy that.”

 

“Until tomorrow, Sherlock Holmes.”

 

***

 

Victor Trevor was very different from Sebastian Wilkes.

 

Where Sebastian was just using him, Victor seemed to really like him. He talked to Sherlock like he had hung the moon for him. He respected the deductions Sherlock made, not insulting them as Sebastian had. Sherlock could feel that he was falling in love.

 

Nothing terrified him more than that realization.

 

The feelings growing within Sherlock caused him to go back to see Mycroft. “Are you any closer to finding a cure for this curse?”

 

“Everything we’ve tried so far hasn’t worked. I don’t know what to tell you, Sherlock. It may be that you have to figure it out for yourself.”

 

If falling in love terrified him, the realization that he could feasibly never break this curse petrified him.

 

Sherlock and Victor had been together for six months when he noticed the first change in Victor. He wasn’t angry or bitter, he was just off somehow. Off in a way Sherlock could never imagine. Sherlock came home one day to see Victor injecting heroin into his arm. “Victor?”

 

“Ah Sherlock! I was wondering when you’d be home, love. Want to try? I’ve got more needles.”

 

Sherlock couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The man he loved, shooting up in his living room. “Victor, why are you doing this?”

 

“Well how else am I supposed to deal with having a boyfriend who never says he loves me?” Victor asked, suddenly vicious. “How else am I supposed to deal with feeling like there is no one for me? Do you even love me, Sherlock? I’m starting to doubt that you do.”

 

Sherlock stared at his boyfriend, tears streaming down his face. “Victor, I… I…”

 

“Spit it out, Holmes!”

 

“I cannot love you,” Sherlock said, words leaving his tongue in a whisper. More tears continued to roll down his face.

 

“I knew it. Well, consider us done, Sherlock Holmes. I hope I never see you again,” Victor said, standing up and slamming the door. He had left behind his needles and his stash, causing Sherlock to do the unthinkable.

 

He filled the syringe and stuck the needle carefully into his vein, Victor’s words haunting him. _How else am I supposed to deal with feeling like there is no one for me?_

 

“If this worked for you, maybe it’ll work for me too, Victor.”

 

***

 

The drugs did their job quite well.

 

Sherlock found himself partial to heroin and cocaine, but he only used what he knew he could handle. The first time Mycroft found him was his first, and only, overdose.

 

“Sherlock, you need to wake up. Tell me what you took so I can help you,” his brother pleaded, dragging Sherlock into his car.

 

“I… 15% solution. Cocaine. Too much.”

 

“Sherlock, you can’t make a habit of doing this.”

 

“I’ll be find, Myc,” Sherlock said, his childhood nickname for his brother slipping out. “Won’t happen again. I’ll make a list for you next time.”

 

“Sherlock…” Mycroft stroked his brother’s hair, wishing he could alleviate the pain. “Come on, Sherlock. We need to get you into A&E,” Sherlock didn’t say anything. He was oddly complacent.

 

“I’m gonna be alone forever, Myc,” Sherlock said. “This curse means I’ll never be with any people ever again.”

 

“We’ll find a way to break it, ‘Lock. I promise.”

 

**After (Part 3)**

It was on a Wednesday that Sherlock made the acquaintance of Greg Lestrade. He was in an alley, higher than a kite, when Lestrade brought him in. When Sherlock woke up the next morning, after spending the night in a cell, Lestrade decided to talk to him. “What’s your name?”

 

“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock said, his words slightly slurred.

 

“My name is Greg Lestrade,” Lestrade said. He looked at Sherlock for a few moments before making another comment. “You don’t seem like the usual type we get passed out from drugs in an alleyway.”

 

Sherlock regarded Lestrade, taking in all he could from his appearance. “And you don’t look like the kind of idiot who would see that your wife was cheating on you without taking action on it, but here we are. More than meets the eye.”

 

“How did you know about my wife?” Lestrade asked, eyes wide with shock.

 

“Stain on your shirt. At least three days old, your wife spilled coffee on you on the way to meet her lover. She didn’t bother to help clean it and you didn’t bother to clean it to remind her that you knew what was going on. Unfortunately for you, she doesn’t care. Your best bet is to file for divorce and meet a nice lady, or gentleman as your hair and nature suggest, to be with. One that won’t cheat on you like an idiot,” Sherlock finished his deductions and turned away from the detective in front of him. As much as he loved to see people’s shock at his deductions, he hated seeing the anger in their eyes when he was right. And he was always right.

 

“While I don’t necessarily appreciate you telling me about my wife’s cheating, I do think what you did could be put to some good use. If you can get off the drugs, perhaps I could consult with you for cases. I’d imagine that you can read a crime scene as well as you can read me.”

 

Sherlock pondered this for a moment. Someone actually thought his deductions could be useful, could be used to help people. Maybe this would be the way, be the way to show people that he did care. He just couldn’t express it normally. But through helping the police, people could see that he did care. “I… Can I phone my brother? To get me out and into some sort of rehabilitation facility? Your offer… I would like that very much, if you’d still have me after I get sober.”

 

Greg smiled, “If you’re serious about this, then I’d be happy to help you through the process as well.”

 

“You’ve… You’ve been very kind to me, Detective Inspector. Why?”

 

“Not used to people wanting to help you?”

 

“Used to being cursed,” Sherlock mumbled, causing the DI to laugh. “I wish I were kidding.”

 

Greg couldn’t help but feel bad for Sherlock, sensing some tension as he spoke. Instead of questioning it, Greg just nodded and took Sherlock to place his phone call. When he released him, later, into his brother’s custody, Greg couldn’t help but wonder what had made the man in front of him into what he was.

 

**After (Part 4)**

 

It ended with Sherlock.

 

Sherlock had been out of rehabilitation for six months when he made the acquaintance of one John Watson. Mike Stamford had brought the man in after lunch one day, the day he had commented on being hard to find a flatmate for.

 

At first glance, the man was not very interesting. He seemed very boring, average. Soldier, doctor, genuinely good person. At second glance, though, he was so much more. Wounded in action, but missing the battle. Doctor in battle, but captain of his men. Good person, but not trusting, not wanting to hurt others or have them hurt him. Psychosomatic limp. Interesting.

 

When John decided to accompany him on the case, Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. Even his deductions in the car were well received. He was called brilliant, told it was amazing. Things he hadn’t heard since Victor. _No, don’t think about Victor._

John had decided to stay, John had decided to be his friend. Sherlock was determined to leave it that way. He wasn’t going to lose him. He wasn’t going to lose anyone else.

 

***

 

Sherlock had never imagined that faces from his past would come back. It started with Sebastian, and a case.

 

“This is my friend, John Watson,” Sherlock said, introducing John to Sebastian.

 

“Friend?” Sebastian asked, his voice laced with taunting and surprise.

 

“Colleague,” John said quickly, crushing part of Sherlock’s soul. Sherlock had to watch and listen as Sebastian told John that everyone in their university hated him. He had to sit there and relive everything he had tried to forget.

 

Even after the case had ended, Sherlock still felt the sting of memories that he had long suppressed. John seemed to notice something was wrong, but he didn’t comment on it. Sherlock didn’t expect him to.

 

The next face from his past happened to be the one he most wished to forget. James Moriarty.

 

“Isn’t this a surprise, Sherlock,” John said, coming out in that dark pool. Sherlock knew it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him. Never. Not John.

 

“Jim, come on out,” Sherlock shouted, eyes going away from John. He didn’t want to look at the man he had become to see as a friend be taken from him again.

 

“Aw, Sherlock, you’re still no fun,” Jim said, walking out from behind a pillar. “I wanted to watch you suffer for a bit longer. I know how you feel about this, Sherlock.”

 

“Haven’t you seen me suffer enough, Jim?” Sherlock asked, drawing the card out of his pocket. “Or have you forgotten this?”

 

Moriarty smiled at the card, “Ah, yes. That was a masterful piece of work. Perfect for burning the heart out of you.”

 

“I’ve been informed I don’t have one.”

 

Moriarty cast his gaze to John. “But we both know that’s not true.”

 

Before he could say anything else, Moriarty’s phone began to chime. He answered, talking quietly before shouting, “SAY THAT AGAIN. Say that again and know if you’re lying I will skin you,” He hung up the phone before turning to John and Sherlock. “It’s you’re lucky day, Sherlock. You can keep your pet for a little while longer,” With that, Moriarty exited the pool area.

 

“John, I am so sorry,” Sherlock said, pulling wires and explosives off of John as quickly as he could. “I… Thank you, for your help. I can have my brother help you find someplace else to live.”

 

“Why would I be going anywhere?” John asked, confusion lacing his voice.

 

“It’s to my understanding that… People, especially those who don’t consider me to be a friend, aren’t going to stay after being wired with explosives.”

 

“But you are my friend, Sherlock.”

 

“I… You told Sebastian…”

 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn’t have said that then. But you are my friend. My best friend, actually.”

 

“Good. That was… good. What you said.”

 

***

 

A few weeks after Moriarty came back into Sherlock’s life, so did Irene Adler. From the start, she continued what she did at university. She flirted shamelessly, flaunting her naked form around. It even seemed to make John jealous, which shocked Sherlock.

 

“She’s no one, you know,” Sherlock told John one night.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Irene. She’s no one. If anything, she’s more of an enemy than a friend.”

 

“Good. That’s good,” John said, surprising Sherlock once more. “I… I’m glad to hear that. But, um, what did she do?”

 

Sherlock didn’t know how to explain it in words, so he pulled the card out of his jacket pocket. “I… She and Moriarty did this. I don’t know how familiar you are with Magic.”

 

John held the card in his hands, handling it carefully. “This is a heavy curse. Unbroken,” Sherlock nodded. “I hope you find a way to break it, Sherlock.”

 

“Thank you, John.”

 

***

 

It wasn’t surprising to anyone that Sherlock began to fall in love.

 

What was surprising to everyone, though, was that John seemed to be falling as well.

 

It was after a particularly tough case that it seemed to burst forth. John and Sherlock were laughing on their way home, takeaway in hand, walking up the steps into their flat.

 

“I can’t believe you solved that due to a small pile of glitter,” John said through his laughter as he opened the door.

 

“I can’t believe that no one else noticed the pile of glitter. Who keeps piles of glitter?”

 

“You’re brilliant, Sherlock,” John said, setting down the food on their table. Sherlock had cleaned it for once, no experiments scattered across it. “I… Christ, I love you.”

 

Sherlock felt his heart stop. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t lose John. John had become a part of him, a part of who he was. To lose him now would destroy him.

 

“Sherlock?” John asked, tentatively placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Sherlock, talk to me.”

 

“I…” Sherlock started, wishing that this didn’t have to happen. “I cannot love you, John,” Sherlock said, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. It was a small miracle that he wasn’t crying.

 

Much to his surprise, John just smiled, albeit sadly. “I know, Sherlock. I know. High functioning sociopath who’s married to his work and all that. I knew all that when I was falling in love with you. And I’ll get over it, in time, but I’m not going to leave you or say that I don’t love you because I do. Even if you can’t love me back.”

 

The icy feeling in Sherlock’s chest began to melt away. A light seemed to glow from his chest, the heart shape from the card, from all those years ago, came from his chest. Instead of the broken shape, it seemed to have been stitched back together once again. Sherlock grabbed the card from his pocket, the black and red glowing too. Then, out of nowhere the card cracked. It shattered, disappearing into light.

 

“John,” Sherlock breathed out, feeling like an intense weight had been removed from his chest. “John, I love you.”

 

“You what?” John asked, voice low and guarded.

 

“I love you. I have since the start, when you didn’t call me a freak, when you went with me on cases, when you didn’t just use me. During university I was cursed, I was incapable of telling someone that I loved them unless I could get them to stay without. I thought I’d be alone forever, always wishing to be with someone but never able to keep them. But you, John Watson, you were willing to stay without me saying that I love you. You were still willing to love me and because of that, I can look you in the eyes and say that I love you and that I will never stop loving you.”

 

John stared at Sherlock, utterly speechless. Instead of speaking, John just pulled Sherlock into his arms, burying his head in Sherlock chest. “I don’t know what to say,” John mumbled into Sherlock. “I didn’t think this could ever happen.”

 

“Nor did I,” Sherlock said, stroking John’s head. “You’re always surprising me, John.”

 

“I love you, Sherlock,” John said again, pulling away with a bright smile in order to peck Sherlock on the lips.

 

“And I love you, John Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone who read this. I hope you enjoyed it. ^_^ Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required. And once again, a huge thank you to melisslo for allowing me to use your prompt


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